There was a time when a goal in the AFL didn’t need a soundtrack. It didn’t need a DJ, a playlist, or a carefully curated vibe. It had something far more powerful than any speaker system could replicate: raw noise. Pure, unfiltered crowd reaction. And right now, the AFL is slowly suffocating that magic with one of its most unnecessary modern additions: songs after goals.
Let’s be honest about where this comes from. It feels like a borrowed idea, something lifted from overseas leagues without really considering whether it fits the DNA of Australian football. In those environments, entertainment is layered over the sport as part of the spectacle. But AFL has never needed that. The spectacle has always been built into the game itself. The speed, the collisions, the momentum swings, and most importantly, the crowd.
When a goal is kicked, the reaction is instant and explosive. It’s not just cheering. It’s a release of tension that’s been building sometimes for minutes, sometimes for entire quarters. The crowd roars, teammates swarm, and for a brief moment the stadium becomes a living, breathing organism. That’s the magic of footy. That’s the stuff you can’t manufacture.
And then, right in the middle of that moment, the speakers kick in.
Instead of letting that roar carry, instead of allowing the emotion to build and spill into the next centre bounce, we get a pre-selected song blasting through the ground. It cuts across everything. The energy shifts from organic to artificial in a matter of seconds. It’s jarring, and worse, it feels unnecessary.
The AFL prides itself on atmosphere, and rightly so. Venues like the Melbourne Cricket Ground and Optus Stadium are famous not just for their size, but for the noise they generate. That wall of sound after a big moment is something players talk about, something fans live for, and something broadcasters try desperately to capture.
But when you overlay that moment with music, you dilute it. You replace something authentic with something controlled. Instead of the crowd dictating the feeling, the stadium does. Instead of thousands of voices creating a unique moment, everyone is forced to listen to the same track, whether it fits or not.
There’s also a deeper issue here about trust. By adding goal songs, the AFL is essentially saying the game itself isn’t enough. That the moment needs a boost, a little extra push to make it entertaining. That’s a dangerous mindset. Because if you start believing your product needs constant enhancement, you risk losing what made it special in the first place.
Footy has always thrived on its unpredictability. No two games feel the same, no two moments land the same way. A late goal in a tight contest feels different to a sealer in a blowout. The crowd responds differently, the players respond differently, and that’s what makes the sport compelling. Goal songs flatten that difference. They standardise the reaction. Big moment, small moment, doesn’t matter. Same process, same interruption.
And let’s talk about the players for a second. The idea behind goal songs is that it gives them personality, a way to express themselves. That sounds nice in theory, but in practice it rarely adds anything meaningful. Most fans don’t associate the song with the player long term. It becomes background noise, a novelty that wears off quickly. The player’s performance, their ability to deliver in big moments, that’s what defines them, not what song plays after they kick a goal.
In fact, there’s an argument that it takes away from the player. The focus shifts, even briefly, from what they’ve just achieved to what’s coming through the speakers. It’s a distraction in a moment that should be about the act itself. A brilliant goal deserves to stand on its own, not share the spotlight with a playlist.
There’s also the issue of pacing. AFL is a game of momentum, and anyone who watches regularly understands how quickly things can turn. A goal can spark a run, shift the pressure, or completely change the direction of a match. The moments immediately after a goal are crucial. Teams reset, structures reform, and mentally, both sides are recalibrating.
Injecting music into that window might seem harmless, but it subtly disrupts the flow. It adds an extra layer of noise that doesn’t contribute to the contest. Instead of the natural buzz of anticipation building for the next bounce, you get something that feels more like a break in play at an entertainment event.
And then there’s the reality that not every song choice lands. What might feel like a clever or funny pick in the locker room doesn’t always translate in a packed stadium. Sometimes it feels out of place. Sometimes it’s just plain awkward. And when that happens, it pulls people out of the moment rather than drawing them in.
The AFL has always walked a fine line between sport and entertainment, but the balance has generally been right. The game comes first. The rest is there to support it, not overshadow it. Goal songs blur that line. They feel like an attempt to manufacture excitement in a sport that already produces it naturally.
If anything, the league should be leaning harder into what makes AFL unique. The crowd involvement, the noise, the sense that anything can happen at any moment. Those are the elements that keep people coming back. Those are the things that create lifelong memories.
You don’t remember a game because of what song played after a goal. You remember the feeling. The roar. The tension. The release. The way the stadium shook when your team got on top or the silence that hit when the opposition stole momentum.
That’s the soundtrack of footy. It always has been.
By inserting music into those moments, the AFL risks turning something genuine into something staged. It might seem like a small change, a bit of fun, something harmless. But over time, these little shifts add up. They change how the game feels. They chip away at the authenticity that has always been one of the league’s biggest strengths.
The solution isn’t complicated. It doesn’t require a committee or a long review process. It just requires the AFL to recognise that sometimes less is more. That sometimes the best way to enhance the spectacle is to step back and let it breathe.
Because when a goal is kicked, the game already gives you everything you need.
You can find more from Dave on his own substack, It’s a Dave Thing.
